Muse or artist—everyone falls into one of the two categories. And there is no better-known tragedy of the two archetypes than Eurydice and Orpheus, whose live theater capture grossed $20.7 million this August, breaking box office records.
Set in a railroad town ravaged by extreme temperatures—a harsh winter or blistering summer, “Hadestown” sings this old tune with the voice of a new storyteller: Hermes (André De Shields).
Do not be fooled by the wrinkles on his face, Hermes is as lively as the young couple he counterparts; the cheering from the crowd is well-deserved.
Accompanying Hermes’ incredible performance are the protagonists: Eurydice (Eva Noblezada) and Orpheus (Reeve Carney), whose love story becomes tangled with the divine entities of their world—Hades (Patrick Page) and Persephone (Amber Gray), rulers of the underworld.
Reluctant to fall in love after a life of disappointment, Eurydice is tormented by the voices of the Fates (Bella Brown, Madeline Charlemagne and Allie Daniel). They were the only exception from the original Broadway cast, played entirely by the West End performers, but it does not take away from the experience.
The contrast between their vocal ranges makes for a haunting performance. Every moment they are on stage becomes a battle between wishing they would leave Eurydice alone and hoping they will sing one more line.
The girl herself is not lost in the entourage. Eurydice gives her heart (and life) in every song. She is more than half of a duet—she steals the show.
Unfortunately, her better half is outshone by her performance. Orpheus embodies the “hopeless romantic” heart-wrenchingly, but his style makes parts of the songs fall flat. You are left craving the long note he cut out too soon.
The naive persona also takes away from the character’s role in the second act, turning him into a passive actor rather than a hero.
The same cannot be said for the antagonist, Hades, who was an imposing figure on stage despite having a torn Achilles tendon. Although his lines feel more like monologuing than singing, it works. Among a cast full of life, he is a man closed off to the world. He said his pain “was real,” but so was the danger of his presence.
The queen of the Underworld, Persephone, is the opposite. Channeling a repressed ‘50s housewife, Persephone deals with her decaying marriage in the best way she knows: alcohol.
Still, the wine did not stop her from dancing the night away. Her expressive body language and facial expressions make up for her stoic husband, making it all the more tragic when she becomes quiet and bitter.
It all comes together with the work of stylists, choreographers and cameramen.
The glittering suits and dresses worn by the gods are more than decoration; they mark the divinities’ place above men. To match, stylists carefully chose the humans’ tattered and simple clothes to show their lesser power.
Despite the small West End stage, the scenery is effective. Paired with impressive cinematography, the angles make the production feel on par with Hollywood.
Instead of the abstract conception of the Underworld common in Greek mythology, “Hadestown” presents a known entity: capitalism, the class divide. By the second act, the love story takes place amid a workers’ uprising. The stakes increase and the inevitable downfall becomes even more heartbreaking.
The ending is expected, but you still find yourself hoping against hope for a different outcome, and then it repeats.
It is an old song. A never-ending song. And you will want to tune into it every single time, even with bloodshot eyes.